


A Better Predator

by Spare_Sidekick



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4309884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spare_Sidekick/pseuds/Spare_Sidekick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan Chandler is Caught in London during a spectacular downpour on a night of the full moon.  Luckily, the residence of a very familiar face is nearby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Predator

"A Better Predator"

The knocking on Dorian's door had grown to a loud and persistent level that he found he was compelled to answer.  He had been enjoying a fire side Claret, and was happily resigned to night of reading something especially saucy and remaining lightly tipsy for the evening, but the hammering had not stopped.  A poor night for servants to be absent.  Still, he donned a gown and opened the door himself to espy a rain-drenched street beyond his rain-drenched stoop. 

Upon the stoop, however, was a rain drenched Mr Chandler, and for that he was especially pleased.

“Why Mr Chandler, what a pleasant surprise.  You simply must come out of this awful weather.”

“Much obliged,” Chandler replied, stepping forward.  His tone was gruff, and he was obviously quite troubled.

“So, Ethan. To what do I owe the …pleasure?”  Dorian's lip curled upward in a sly smile. He played the last encounter he and Ethan had over in his head, and it brought no unpleasant feelings to mind.

“I need a favour, Dorian.  I would not be pressing this on you were the hour not as late as it is, but I am bereft of a better alternative”

“I’m intrigued, Mr Chandler.  Do go on.”

Ethan paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Rainwater still soaking his hair trickled slowly down his body, as if he had brought the weather in with his as he crossed the threshold.  

"Do you by any chance have some… chains…? Lying around?"

Dorian was bemused by this.  Ethan Chandler was a straightforward man, not known for finery, nor famous for any proclivity to bondage.  Yet he was restraining himself here, holding something back. It made him seem vulnerable. 

And delicious.

"You know full-well that my home is abundantly stocked with such accoutrements.  I am quite surprised you hadn't already confirmed that I indeed have such restraints at my disposal…" he paused for effect, before reaching forward to brush an errant water droplet from Ethan’s coat, “…on your _last_ visit.”

“Well," and Ethan blushed just a little, while levelling his best "aw shucks" All-American Cowboy smile at him. "Last time I was here we never really explored much beyond the bedroom."

Dorian returned the smile, his eyes narrowing to cast him in a devilish grin.  "Perhaps now is an adequate time for a tour, then?"

“Lead the way, Mr Grey.”

 

The room was in no way as secure as Ethan would have preferred.  Small but tiled, with chains securely held in the wall by decorative brackets made of burnished copper.  A skylight would have illuminated the room adequately if not for the overcast evening, and mirrors flanked the room.  The door was ornate, and probably incapable of holding back a wild animal for very long.

 And it led straight to one of Dorians luxurious bedrooms.

"Is this it?" he asked, as he tested the chains.

"You wanted to be chained up, Mr Chandler."  Dorian gestured towards the room, his arm slipping just enough to let the robe part. Just enough to tease.  "Those _are_ chains…"

"They aren't very heavy."

"Well, some people aren't as muscular as you."

"And the room is kinda small."

"I thought the point was to be restrained?"

"Yeah, but…"  Ethan stopped talking. He had turned to face Dorian by this point and had glanced upon the split robe, the exposed, exquisite ivory flesh, the curve of his hip and the paleness of his thigh.  He gulped, and felt the swell of the beast, aroused by the moon's touch and prodded by his own desires.

 Dorian smiled and let the robe fall to the floor, revealing himself in all his glory.

“Let us get you out of those wet things.”

They flew into each other, like a wave crashing against a cliff. Ethan trembled as their mouths met and kisses were exchanged.  Dorian, for his part, delighted at the feeling of Ethan's control dwindling, and connived to take advantage of this moment.  He moved away, ever backward, biting his lip and levelling bedroom eyes at the delightful Mr Chandler.  Ethan advanced, pulse racing, pulling apart his shirt as he went.

The journey ended with the two collapsing on the bed, Ethan struggling to shed his breeches and Dorian jockeying for top position. Both got what they wanted, despite the impediment of heavy petting, and the two intertwined as they sprawled upon the rumpled bedspread.

Ethan, vulnerable and with his blood pumping like raw thunder in his veins, allowed Dorian's skilled hands to caress his body.  Dorian, enraptured by the allure of a helpless Ethan straining and conflicted betwixt desire and restraint, took his liberties where he could as he nibbled, licked, and kissed his way slowly down Ethan's quivering torso, across his belly and hips until reaching his manhood.

Of course, he drew this out. Laughing softly at Ethan's shuddering, and while Ethan's hands gripped the sheets, Dorian's grasped Ethan's cock, working it with slow, but firm thrusts while he gently nipped at the tip.

"Oh God!" cried Ethan, as his blood boiled.

Dorian feigned shock. "Hardly the most appropriate time for prayer, Mr Chandler," he announced. He stood slowly, moving his hands upwards until he held Ethan's chin cupped in one hand.  With the other, he gave a mocking admonishment with a single finger.

"The correct way to pray in this situation is _on your knees_. _"_

He pulled at Ethan's beard, fingers scrunching up his silken hair. He didn't remember his hair being quite so long. But Ethan rose from the bed, and dropped to his knees.

“That's a good boy.” 

Ethan grasped Dorians hips.  Without a practised subtlety or finesse, Ethan first licked and then swallowed Dorian's cock. Dorian held Ethan's head, to slow his progress and prolong the bliss, but Ethan was a man possessed by a ravenous hunger and was soon rewarded by a wave of Dorian's come, shooting down his throat as Dorian reached an abrupt but glorious climax.

They separated.  Dorian stood trembling, a laugh escaping his throat as he looked down.  His hands were still laced into Ethan's  hair, locked in place by his rapture, and he reluctantly uncurled his fingers and bent down to kiss him, tasting himself upon his lips. 

Ethan was gasping, face tilted back and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"I… I have to use your room now," he said.    He pushed Dorian aside and quickly stumbled to the tiny room of chains, with a confused but jovial Dorian trailing behind.

"You're still _hard,"_ Dorian called out to Ethan's back. "Now's not the time to pull out."

But he was speaking to closed doors at this point.

"Mr Chandler?"

Silence

"Ethan?"  He strained to listen at the door and heard the soft but hurried chinking of chains.  Dorian smiled to himself. It seemed Mr Chandler had a fairly extreme need indeed.

He played with the door handle.  Not Locked?   Probably in a hurry.  Then came the grunting.

"Ethan…. Are you… Playing with _yourself_ in there?"

Again no reply, but Dorian would not be denied. Between his curiosity and his amour, there was no way he could pass this opportunity up, and the very thought of it started to make him hard again.

So he opened the door. 

And found the wolf.

Ethan's form had changed, distinctly. His soft beard and beautiful hair had become wild and bristled. His teeth had sharpened and elongated and his eyes….They were looking right at him. Dark orbs, deep pools of radiant hate and feral lust.  Dorian swooned a little. His heart beat fast and his cock stiffened.

He had a monster.  A delicious scrumptious monster.  And it was chained in his closet.

He knelt down to face the beast, who, on his knees and chained hand and foot to the walls, could not approach.

He got as close as he dared. Close enough to smell Ethan, to taste the breath coming off his body.  He bit his lip in delight and moved his fingers closer.

Ethan arched his body, moving painfully closer, straining against the chains but still unable to make contact with Dorian's outstretched hand.  The smallest of whimpers came from his lips and his dark eyes widened as his brow furrowed.

Dorian let this play for a few seconds, favouring the excitement of the new. And as he saw Ethan's face change from needy to frustrated, he moved his hand forward, running his fingers through the fresh hair on Ethan's chest. Fingers splayed, smoothing out hair, thumbs crossing his nipples, over the shoulders.  Then Dorian edged forward so their lips could meet.

The wolfman's breath was heady, and aromatic. Their tongues met and teeth scraped. Dorian chuckled to himself as he wrapped his hands behind Ethan and dragged fingernails down his back, scoring the flesh. 

Ethan strained, pushed up against Dorian as firmly as the restraints would allow, only tasting that which Dorian allowed, and only feeling that which Dorian permitted.

This would not do.

The chains snapped.  For the wolf had needs.

For Ethan, it was like a lava flow.  Burning. Hot. Incandescent but slow. The chains came free from the wall, as was the monster's desire and such was his might, and the wolf bore his prey to the floor.

For Dorian, it was lightning, thunderous and sudden.  The wolf was upon him before he registered the chains breaking, shattered links chiming a melody upon the tiles.  Now he was beneath Ethan, pinned, trapped face to face with the monster, his musky odour washing over him, his paws upon his chest.  His erection pressed against his belly, pulsing.

The wolf thrust his cock across his hip and belly in powerful, rhythmic strokes, each accompanied by a gentle grunt.   Not from the beast, Dorian marvelled, for each satisfied grunt was coming from Dorian's own throat.

Dorian strained to kiss Ethan. He desired and hungered for the taste of his flesh, but Ethan leaned back too far. Lips just out of reach.

But his eyes. His dark eyes never broke from his.

The strokes came quicker now as the beast picked up the pace. Dorian held his composure no more as the pressure in his loins grew too vast and he came again, in great shuddering convulsions.

At this, Ethan paused, and after a second or two looked between them at the warm mess binding them both together.  When he looked up, the beast was grinning. Grinning with his teeth clasped on his lower lip.

Dorian guessed what was sure to come next and let out a soft "Chandler… No." The wolf leaned back and grunted, his belly glistening with Dorian's come in the soft candle light.  He flipped Dorian over, and Dorian felt the stiffness of Ethan's cock pressed between his buttocks.  The grinding began anew, one claw upon Dorian's shoulder, talons digging into the flesh, the other at his hip.

"Chandler….No?"  The beast choked out, as the pace quickened. 

Dorian was stupefied to hear that voice, so much like Ethan's and yet so… mocking.  He ground his hips into Dorian, his weight pressing into him, his animal scent washing over him.  Then he paused.  Clawed hands moved, weight shifting again.  Dorian's legs were pulled apart and he felt a face, with lips and hair and tongue and teeth, sniffing, licking and nibbling him from behind.

Teeth sunk into his flank. Blood trickled and Dorian howled for himself.

“Chandler, no?” came Ethan's voice.

“Chandler… _Yes_ ,” Dorian hissed through grit teeth.

More movement, a hand in the small of his back. Legs held apart with the other. Rigid cock pressing into him, entering him.  It felt huge, and Dorian could feel Ethan's heartbeat though the cock inside him.

The beast was not slow, nor was he gentle.  He was insistent, and all play ebbed out of the wolf's heart as his more primal needs took over. 

Dorian struggled.  The pain was exquisite, and the pleasure was rapturous.  But he fought to turn his body, hoping to look upon the monster so intent on fucking him.   Ethan slowed only to grin, with many more teeth than anything human should possess, as Dorian turned side on and pulled his knees up to his belly.  Claws raked Dorian's side and thighs as the beast, approaching the precipice of climax, fought with fervour to hold on to that precarious moment.

And then a howl.  Two howls. A sudden thrust deep into his body, held in place as Ethan shot Dorian full of his seed.

A second thrust, and another shot, another howl. 

A third. Gentler.  Less force, as Ethan was spent, his last ounces of savage lust slaked for now, his fury ebbing.  His grip on Dorian relaxing. 

No howl this time, just a soft, satisfied whimper.

 

From the both of them.

 

Ethan awoke to the smell of rich, roast coffee, in a small room with broken tiles, blood, and snapped chains.  In the night, someone had draped his form with a blanket, the softest thing he'd ever beheld.  He sniffed twice.  He could smell oils, blood and the scent of human sex.  Through the door, sitting some forty feet away, was Dorian Grey, pristine and perfectly clean.  Bathed and robed in a grey silken bathrobe, bare feet sinking into the carpet as he sipped on his coffee.

Ethan groaned, muscles stiff and sore.  His first thought was that sleeping on tiles was a bad thing, but as he examined his body and found the odd bruises, the scratch marks, he realised he had been fighting.  Thrashing.

Dorian padded in beside him.  Quiet as a pussycat, bare feet making nary a sound as they trod across carpet.

“You put up quite the struggle,” he said through a smirk.

“What did you see?”

They locked eyes, and for a moment Dorian's playful humour ducked under a cloud.  But his eyes relit as he crouched down to Ethan's level and offered the coffee.

“One of my best second dates ever.”

 

 

 


End file.
